


defining the cosmos

by chisomo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jisung is a sweetheart, M/M, Supernatural Elements, human!jisung, minho just wants to protect him, werewolf!minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chisomo/pseuds/chisomo
Summary: It was happening again.“Jisung. It’s happening again.” Minho’s voice was raw. “Tonight.”Jisung curled his fingers around the hard edges of his phone as a cold heaviness settled in his stomach. He glanced outside to see the sky was smeared with blood. It was almost sunset. He caught a glimpse of the moon out already, a perfect silver quarter.“Okay,” Jisung replied at last. “I’ll be there.”alternatively: jisung and minho try to deal with something bigger than either of themselves.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Woojin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 85
Kudos: 329





	1. into the woods

**Author's Note:**

> Yall I’m back at last! And with a two-shot (or more if I get inspired)! I got this idea out of nowhere at work and had to start writing it immediately. if you didn’t read the tags, then here’s the big secret: Minho is a werewolf, but I never say that explicitly since this is from Jisung’s pov. Seriously lmk what y’all think!! It feels so good to be writing fic again (:

It was happening again.

“Jisung. It’s happening again.” Minho’s voice was raw. “Tonight.”

Jisung curled his fingers around the hard edges of his phone as a cold heaviness settled in his stomach. He glanced outside to see the sky was smeared with blood. It was almost sunset. He caught a glimpse of the moon out already, a perfect silver quarter.

“Okay,” Jisung replied at last. “I’ll be there.”

He would always be there. Neither him nor Minho were brave enough to admit that truth out loud, but they both knew it.

Jisung didn’t hang up right away, listening to the faint sound of Minho’s breathing through the phone speaker. Three beats of silence passed.

“Jisung, I—” Minho cut himself off, voice tight with frustration.

“Minho-hyung,” Jisung said, willing steel into his voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He ended the call.

The worst nights were the ones when Minho couldn’t help but curl into himself in the passenger seat, fists clenching and jaw locked tight as he fought a never-ending war on the battleground of his own body. The nights when Jisung met Minho’s eyes and saw an animal staring back at him.

This night was not one of those nights, and Jisung sent a silent prayer of thanks to the stars for the small mercy.

On this night, Minho sat upright and motionless in the passenger seat of the beat-up pickup truck as Jisung drove them out of the city. His eyes were distant as he watched the headlights lead them into the increasing darkness.

And Jisung talked, as he always did. To fill the silence, to distract Minho from the pain, to distract himself from the fear. He never remembered what he talked about on these monthly drives, but the words would pour out of him for the entire forty minutes it took to get out of the city.

Out of the city, and into the woods.

Minho never responded unless Jisung addressed him directly, but Jisung didn’t mind. He knew the amount of control it took for Minho to hold himself together for those forty minutes. He had also seen firsthand what happened when that control broke.

So Jisung talked.

He was in the middle of recounting a class from earlier that week when Hyunjin had gotten fiercely scolded by their professor for taking selfies in class—when Minho suddenly gripped the seat arm so tightly that the fabric tore.

“How much longer?” Minho asked, voice perfectly controlled despite the iron grip he had on the seat.

Jisung glanced at the car clock quickly, then at Minho’s strained expression. They both knew exactly how much time they had left until they got to the woods.

“Not long, hyung. About ten minutes,” Jisung said carefully. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and subtly pressed the gas pedal a little harder.

He peered through the windshield to see the moon was rising in the sky, milky white and glowing against the darkness of the night. Beside him, Minho tipped his head back and sucked in a sharp breath.

Jisung swallowed hard, pressing down on the gas pedal even more. “Almost there, hyung. Hang on.”

Minho didn’t respond.

Seven minutes later, Jisung swung the truck onto the shoulder of the road and jolted them to a stop. He let out a shaky breath, and turned to see Minho already had the door open. Jisung watched as Minho stumbled out of the car, gait uneven as he started towards the tree line.

“Minho!” Jisung felt the name leave his lips before he could stop himself.

Minho stopped and turned back to meet Jisung’s gaze. His eyes were a depthless, onyx black.

Jisung felt something in his chest clench. “I’ll…I’ll be right here.”

Minho stood still for a moment, shadows draping his figure. Then he nodded and turned around once more, this time jogging towards the trees.

Jisung watched until Minho’s figure was swallowed up by the woods completely. Then he sat back in the pickup truck and waited. The moon shone on.

This was the worst part of the night—waiting for Minho to return, wiling away the hours with bitten nails and shivering limbs. Jisung always got so cold waiting in that pickup. The heat had been busted long ago, probably long before Minho had gotten the truck back in his sophomore year.

Jisung had met him that year. He still remembered the first time Minho had driven him home from some party, the quicksilver grin on Minho’s face and the way his eyes glittered in the 3 a.m. light. He still remembered how Minho had whipped the breath right out of his chest with one look.

 _Cosmic,_ he remembered thinking, watching the light dance in Minho’s eyes. _Something not of this world._

A far-off howl jolted Jisung from his memories, and he looked up quickly to see that the moon was still high above. No sounds followed the howl, and Jisung sat back in the seat with a slow breath.

He tugged on the sleeves of the ugly padded coat Chan had passed down to him. Once a repulsive pea-green, the coat was now stained with dirt and weeks of nights filled with fear. But it kept him warm enough, provided a tiny piece of comfort.

And on nights like these, Jisung took any comfort he could find.

Minho never seemed to be cold when he got back, despite having been in the freezing woods for hours. He was always burning up instead, sweaty and reluctant to put on the T-shirt and sweatpants Jisung brought for him.

Then again, Minho’s temperature always ran hotter than normal. Jisung figured that just came with…this part of Minho.

But he always made Minho get dressed anyways, the older boy tugging the fabric carefully over his aching, wounded body as Jisung helped him with trembling fingers. Jisung’s hands always came away stained with blood.

He would scrub the bloody fingerprints off the steering wheel in the morning.

Another howl sounded. This one was long, drawn out. Jisung’s heart stopped, then picked up speed.

He waited, frozen—but nothing else followed. Jisung glanced at the cracked watch on his wrist, biting his lip when he saw that it was only a bit past 1 a.m. Another couple of hours left.

Jisung drew his knees up to his chest, hugging himself in an attempt to conserve warmth. He never slept when he was waiting for Minho, even though he was perpetually exhausted. He couldn’t, not with barely contained panic thrumming in his veins as he pleaded with the stars to let Minho come back safely.

So Jisung waited, and he begged the moon to begin her descent.

Around 3:30 a.m., she listened.

Jisung stirred in his seat, unraveling from the ball he had curled himself into and turning his gaze towards the tree line. The woods formed an impenetrable wall of darkness, unknown depths that Jisung knew Minho was stumbling through at this moment.

The moon was far lower in the sky now.

Jisung twisted his trembling fingers together.

The first night Jisung had done this, he’d nearly worked himself into tears waiting for Minho to come back. He was scared of waiting in the truck alone in the darkness for hours, but he was even more scared of whatever Minho was going through—something he would never understand.

Something he could never fix.

_Something not of this world._

The car clock hit 4 a.m., and Jisung narrowed his gaze. His eyes were blurring from looking at one place for too long, but he forced them to focus.

There was movement at the tree line. A figured emerged from the woods, staggering in the direction of the car.

_Please let it be him please let it be him please just let him be okay—_

They got closer, and closer, and—Jisung sucked in a sharp breath, twin waves of relief and concern crashing in his chest. Wavy dark hair, lithe frame, clothes impossibly ripped—it was Minho.

He was okay.

Jisung threw himself from the truck, stumbling as he ran through the tall grass next to the highway to reach Minho’s unsteady form.

He skidded to Minho’s side and ducked under his arm to let the older lean some of his weight on Jisung’s smaller frame. Minho was panting, chest rising and falling a little too quickly to be normal. They started the trek back to the car, Jisung scanning Minho’s body for this night’s injuries.

The usual scattered bruises were there, a particularly nasty one on Minho’s right shin. Countless little cuts marked his tanned skin from racing through thorny undergrowth, but one on his cheek and one on his chest were worryingly deep. Dirt and blood were matted in Minho’s hair, but Jisung didn’t see an obvious head injury.

Minho was also probably aching all over from the pain of the transformation, but Jisung couldn’t do much about that.

Jisung felt another wave of relief crash within him. None of the injuries were too bad tonight. He could take care of Minho. Minho would be alright.

Minho would never go to a hospital—too many questions. So Jisung’s basic first aid training, supplemented by Google, was all they had. Jisung was terrified of the night when that wouldn’t be enough.

But that night was not tonight.

They reached the truck at last. Minho let out a low groan as Jisung propped his frame against the side of the truck, whispering apologies as he grabbed the clothes and helped Minho step into them. There would be blood spots on the shirt by the time they got back, but that was the least of Jisung’s worries.

Jisung stepped back once Minho was dressed, hands bloody and heart aching.

“Okay?” he asked breathlessly, meeting Minho’s eyes.

The older boy looked back at him like he wasn’t sure if Jisung was really there. After a long moment, he nodded.

“Okay,” Minho confirmed. Blood dripped down his cheek from a scratch under his right eye.

Jisung wanted desperately to step into Minho’s arms and stay there forever.

Instead, he helped Minho get in the passenger seat of the truck. Jisung hopped in after him and started the engine. It was time to head home—or the closest thing to home either of them had.

Forty minutes of Jisung’s incessant chatter later, they pulled into the parking lot of Minho’s dorm building. Once they were in Minho’s dorm room at last, Jisung felt the knot in his chest finally begin to loosen.

They had made it through another night.

Minho sat on the bed, unmoving as Jisung rummaged through the large first aid kit on the floor. He took out antiseptic, band-aids, cotton rounds, and bruise salve before sitting back on his heels and looking up at Minho. Jisung’s breath caught when he found Minho’s eyes already on him.

He gave Minho a shaky smile, trying to be strong enough for the both of them. “Ready for some expert medical care?”

Minho’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Jisung felt his chest lighten, unreasonably proud of himself for pulling even a small smile out of Minho on a night like this. He let Minho pull off his shirt before getting up and standing between Minho’s legs, antiseptic in one hand and cotton rounds in the other.

Jisung bit his lip, heart quickening at their proximity. He could feel the heat of Minho’s body radiating into his own still-cold skin. It lured him closer.

Jisung carefully lifted an antiseptic-soaked cotton round to the first cut on Minho’s chest. Minho never complained, even though Jisung knew the older boy was already in pain from the transformation and the antiseptic stung without mercy. He unwrapped a band-aid and smoothed it over the cut, then moved on to the next one.

He repeated this until every cut on Minho’s chest and arms was covered. Minho healed faster than any human, and Jisung knew the scars would be gone by next week. But it still made something twist in his chest every time Jisung saw a fresh wound on the older boy’s body.

Jisung swiped a cotton round over the cut under Minho’s eye, cheeks warming as Minho’s breath lightly fanned over his face. He forced his fingers not to tremble as he finished, and held up two band-aids.

“Now, do you want Pikachu or Doraemon for this one?” he asked very seriously.

Minho’s gaze softened. “Doraemon, please.”

Jisung nodded solemnly and applied the band-aid. His breath caught with surprise as he felt an arm wrap around his waist, and Jisung looked down to see Minho’s gaze on him. A soft light glimmered in Minho’s eyes.

“Thank you, Jisung-ah,” he whispered. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

Minho traced his thumb in three gentle circles on Jisung’s hip before releasing the smaller boy. Jisung focused on packing up the first aid supplies, cheeks burning as he tried to ignore the way his skin had tingled where Minho touched him.

Once the kit was packed away, Jisung stood up slowly, weariness filtering through his limbs at last. Minho stood up as well, coming to stand in front of Jisung with those soft, dark eyes. Jisung swallowed hard, biting his lip as he searched for his last bit of courage.

“You don’t have to thank me, hyung,” Jisung said. “I want to be here…I need to be here.”

Pain bloomed in Minho’s eyes. “Sungie…my burden isn’t yours to carry. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

Jisung shook his head. “If you’re going to say something about how I’m wasting my time, then I don’t want to hear it. It hurts when you say that, you know?”

He dipped his head, eyes burning with the sudden threat of tears. It suddenly felt as though every ounce of energy had been scraped out of him.

“Can I just…can I stay here tonight, hyung?” Jisung asked, hating himself for the hint of pleading in his voice.

A gentle hand lifted Jisung’s chin. He raised his head to see Minho looking at him with a hopeless sort of grief in his eyes. The dim light in the dorm washed Minho’s skin in pale gold. Doraemon winked at him from the band-aid under Minho’s right eye.

“Of course, Jisung-ah,” Minho whispered.

So Jisung let Minho lead him into his bed, let Minho tug Jisung against his body and curl around the younger protectively. Jisung let Minho lull him into drowsiness with the warmth of his body and the cinnamon scent of his skin.

Jisung let himself lay in Minho’s arms, and as he closed his eyes as his heart shattered. For the Minho who had laughed freely in his pickup truck two years ago, and for the Jisung who had laughed along with him. He hoped that Minho and that Jisung still existed somewhere out there.

In another world, perhaps.

_Cosmic. Something not of this world._

And outside, the sun began to rise at last.


	2. the moon cries out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey look at me updating this so soon! It’s bc I was literally so excited to write this fic ugh okay so I was only planning on making this a twoshot, but I accidentally got carried away so now it’s a threeshot...unless I get more ideas lol anyways scream at me in the comments!! this is rly SAD OOPS LMAO I love yall!

They were running out of time.

Jisung’s eyes flicked from the car clock to Minho’s face, white with pain. The other boy was bent over in the passenger seat, every muscle pulled taut with the effort to stay in control. To stay human.

“You’re going to make it, hyung,” Jisung said firmly, forcing his voice to remain steady.

He bit his lip viciously, nearly making it bleed as he watched the line of cars ahead of them inch forward. Some accident had shut down the main road, and they were still so far away from the woods.

And there was so little time left.

Minho bit back a low groan, and Jisung’s gaze whipped to the side in time to see Minho digging his fingernails into his arms. Pinpricks of blood welled up on his skin, and Jisung’s stomach twisted at the sight.

“Minho-hyung, stop it!” Jisung couldn’t keep the note of panic out of his voice this time. “Stop hurting yourself _._ ”

“Ji-Jisung…” Minho sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t—I think I’m going to—”

Another groan ripped its way from Minho’s throat, the pitch lowering into what was unmistakably a growl. Minho gasped for air, droplets of sweat trickling from his hairline and down his neck.

Jisung felt a wave of dizzying panic threaten to take over, his view of the road ahead blurring as he fought to stay calm. If Minho _turned_ in this truck, on this road full of other cars—Jisung didn’t want to think about what could happen.

There was a reason Minho had to spend every full moon deep in the woods, away from human beings.

“Minho-hyung, you can’t do this,” Jisung said desperately, pleadingly. As if anything he said made a difference.

“I know, goddamnit!” Minho bit out, the end of his sentence tapering into another growl. He drew in another sharp breath, his chest rising and falling erratically.

The line of cars inched forward a little more. Jisung could feel his entire body trembling. Beside him, Minho dug his hands into the car seat, the fabric ripping apart easily under his unusually sharp nails.

 _Claws,_ Jisung corrected himself with a numbed sort of horror. _Minho’s claws._

“Jisung—” Minho gasped out.

“Minho, please,” Jisung begged, gaze flicking from the road to Minho and back again. “Please don’t do this.”

“Jisung, it’s—it’s happening.” A dark, animalistic growl rumbled from Minho’s throat and cut off his words.

“Fight it, goddamnit!” Jisung cried out.

“ _Fight it!_ ”

“Shut the fuck up, he’s asleep.”

“You’re the one who’s banging around in here.”

Jisung stirred, his senses slowly coming back to him as he opened his eyes and sat up. He found himself in the darkened audio production studio that he shared with Chan and Changbin.

Both of whom happened to be in the studio at that moment, slapping each other for being loud as they tiptoed towards where Jisung was curled up in a chair in the corner.

“Can I help you two?” Jisung asked at last, voice scratchy from sleep.

Startled, Changbin nearly fell over before Chan steadied him with a quick hand on his shoulder.

“Shit, we thought you were asleep,” Changbin said. He walked over to Jisung and threw himself into a nearby chair, spreading out as long as his short limbs would let him.

“I was,” Jisung replied simply, stretching and wincing as his back and neck cracked painfully.

Chan leaned up against the desk, chocolate eyes filled with concern—as they always seemed to be when he looked at Jisung lately. “You slept here all night, Sung?”

Jisung shrugged. “Looks like it. I guess I got too caught up in work.”

Chan’s mouth was downturned. “That’s the third night this week, though. Are you really that behind?”

Jisung stiffened. The honest answer was that no, he didn’t really need to stay up all night in the studio all the time. The honest answer was that working himself to exhaustion was the only way he could fall asleep anymore.

The honest answer was that Jisung hadn’t spoken to Minho in two weeks, and it was eating away at every nerve in his body.

Instead, Jisung gave Chan a teasing smile. “Wait a minute, are you trying to lecture me on getting more sleep? Mr. I-live-on-caffeine-and-angst?”

Changbin snickered loudly beside him, and the worry on Chan’s face gave way to annoyance.

“Sure, sure, let’s all bully Chan just as we always do,” Chan said with the air of a weary veteran. “It’s not like he brought coffee for his dongsaengs or anything.”

Jisung gasped in delight and bounded out of the chair to receive the iced americano Chan handed to him. “Best hyung ever!”

Chan rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly at Jisung after a moment. “So, how’s the song coming?” he asked.

Jisung groaned loudly. “Fucking horrible. It’s like I’ve hit a total block with the hook.”

Changbin scooted forwards in his chair. “Go on, then. Show us.”

A few blissful hours passed in this way, just Jisung and his best friends doing the thing they loved most in the world: making music together. Days like these were the ones that Jisung held close in his chest, stored them carefully so he could take them out when he needed them most.

But of course, Changbin had to ruin it eventually.

“So what’s up with Minho-hyung?” he asked, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “Haven’t seen much of him lately.”

Jisung kept his face carefully blank, clicking randomly on the editing program open on the screen without seeing anything. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Because you always know what he’s doing, and he never answers my texts anyways,” Changbin retorted.

Jisung stared hard at the screen, vision blurring as his mind was filled with images of the last time he saw Minho.

Waking up in the older boy’s bed still wrapped in Minho’s arms, feeling warmer than he ever had in his life. Looking up to see Minho already watching him, eyes soft with sleep and a hopeless affection in the morning light.

Leaving Minho’s room with little more than a goodbye, heart twisted tight enough to burst with all the words he would never say to Minho. Shoving his hands into the ugly padded coat as he walked back to his room, the winter air raw on his cheeks.

Scrolling through text message after text message on his phone, all gone unanswered by Minho.

Two weeks.

“I don’t know, he’s probably just busy with work,” Jisung said. His voice was just a bit too controlled.

Changbin sighed but didn’t press him further. Chan, being the annoyingly perceptive person he was, quickly changed the subject to the upcoming composition midterm. Jisung let himself get lost in the familiar valleys of a conversation with his two best friends.

He didn’t think about Minho.

He didn’t think about how tired he was of this game, this never-ending push and pull that left Jisung exhausted every time. How sometimes he would catch Minho’s gaze on him, and the look in Minho’s eyes answered every question Jisung’s heart had been asking for years.

How every time he thought Minho would finally let Jisung stay, he pushed him away again.

Jisung had been running after Minho for so long. He didn’t know how much longer he could last.

_Two weeks._

There would be two more before Minho turned again.

_“Fight it!”_

White-hot fear coursed through Jisung’s veins, setting his nerves on fire.

_Oh god oh god help us please—_

The traffic had finally let up a few minutes ago. They were much closer to the woods—just a little further, and it would be okay. They would be okay.

A high keen sounded from beside Jisung, and he looked over to see Minho’s body writhing in the passenger seat. Jisung clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the panicked sobs that were threatening to break through.

He couldn’t break down—not when Minho needed him.

Jisung slammed his foot on the gas pedal, urging the beat-up pickup truck to carry them faster. Beside him, Minho was alternating between growls and keens of pain, the sounds getting steadily louder. Steadily more frenzied.

As Minho’s human side was torn apart, and rebuilt with something else entirely.

_Something not of this world._

Minho’s claws were tearing the seat to shreds, and his bones seemed to be breaking and realigning, and—when their eyes met, Jisung suddenly didn’t see Minho anymore.

Jisung saw an animal staring back at him.

Minho— _the animal_ —snarled at him, shifting in his seat so he was facing Jisung. A low, dangerous growl rumbled from deep in his chest. It was a warning.

“Oh god,” Jisung whispered. “Minho, I know you’re in there—please just stay with me a little longer.”

They were so fucking close to the woods. Practically at the edge.

The growls were growing louder and more threatening. Jisung held the steering wheel with all his might, forcing his body to stay still even as every cell in his body screamed at him to _run._

To escape from the wild animal beside him.

_When you encounter a hostile wolf in the wild, stay calm. Back away slowly while facing the animal. Never turn your back to a wolf._

_If the wolf continues to show aggression, be ready to fight if need be._

Jisung gasped out a breath as the woods finally came into view. He veered off the road immediately and jammed the brakes. He looked over to see Minho was still facing him and snarling, eyes narrowed with hostility.

“Just get out of the car, hyung,” Jisung said, his voice shaking uncontrollably. “The woods are right there.”

Minho didn’t seem to register his words at all. Instead, he snapped his teeth at Jisung in warning.

Jisung felt his breath quicken with panic again. Minho was too far gone. Jisung would either need to reach across him and push open the door, or get out and open the door from other side—thus putting his back to Minho.

Which one would get him killed?

_Never turn your back to a wolf._

_Stay calm._

“Okay, Minho…I’m just going to open the door real quick,” Jisung spoke softly, praying that Minho still had a slight bit of control.

There was no sign Minho understood him.

Jisung bit his lip. His entire body was trembling as he reached an arm out—Minho snapped his teeth again, and Jisung snatched his arm back. He drew in a few quick breaths, trying in vain to calm himself.

It was either do this or die trapped in the truck.

_God please let us both make it out of this—_

Jisung reached his shaking arm out again, almost reaching the door handle as Minho’s growls grew louder. But he was so close—his fingers brushed the handle—

There was a bark, and a sudden stinging pain on Jisung’s face—but he managed to push the door open, throwing his body backwards immediately.

Minho let out a long howl—so loud, so unearthly that it seemed to rattle through Jisung’s bones, before jumping out of the car and bounding towards the trees. Jisung watched, frozen, as Minho’s figure grew smaller and bent down to start running on all fours.

Then Minho disappeared into the trees.

Jisung let his head tip back as relief washed through him and the air slowly returned to his lungs.

They had made it.

There was still a stinging on his face, but Jisung barely registered the pain. He reached a careful hand up to his cheek, and his fingers came away dipped in blood. Jisung examined them numbly for a moment, before letting his arm drop back to his side.

He was still alive. Minho had made it to the woods. And those two things were enough.

The night passed quickly. Jisung barely registered the hours slipping past in a haze of freezing air and moonlight. The nights were getting colder as winter began her slow approach. There were more howls tonight than usual.

Jisung was curled up, unmoving, on the driver’s seat for most of the night—and this was where he was when the clock ticked to 4 a.m. and his tired eyes caught movement at the tree line. Minho was returning.

Jisung carefully unfurled his aching limbs and stumbled through the tall grass to meet Minho, just as he always did. Except this time when he finally reached Minho’s side, the older boy drew away from Jisung’s touch and gave him a piercing look.

Jisung fell back a step, unsure, as Minho’s gaze zeroed in on the blood that was no doubt still smearing Jisung’s face. Jisung began to reach a self-conscious hand up towards the cut, then let it fall away. Minho’s face whitened and his lips pressed into a thin line, before he looked away.

Jisung shook his head, not particularly in the mood for Minho’s standoffishness. He strode towards Minho and ducked under his arm to help the older boy begin the walk back to the car. They did not speak.

During the drive back to the dorm, Minho usually sat perfectly still so as not to agitate his wounds, and either slept or pretended to sleep with his eyes closed. This time, Minho still sat unmoving in the seat, but with his eyes wide open.

His gaze didn’t stray towards Jisung once, instead staying locked on the road ahead. His expression was shuttered, tense. Almost…angry.

It made Jisung incredibly anxious.

He flexed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, knuckles white as he wondered what had made Minho so mad. Had Jisung done something? Did Minho blame him for the close call they’d had tonight?

Jisung couldn’t help worrying at his lip with his teeth, an unattractive habit his mother had tried to break him of when he was a child—without success. Minho had never gotten truly mad at him before, but there was a first time for everything. It was just—Jisung didn’t think he could handle that, right now.

Didn’t think he could handle a Minho that was even colder than usual, a Minho that shoved him so far away that Jisung couldn’t catch up.

_Running for so long—_

They still hadn’t said a word to each other by the time Jisung was cleaning Minho’s wounds a while later, safe in Minho’s dorm room. Minho’s expression remained tense, and Jisung was afraid of annoying him further.

Instead, he acted as normal: swiped antiseptic on cuts and salve on bruises, patching up all of the outer wounds and none of the inner ones. The tension between them stretched tighter and tighter—until Minho flinched away from Jisung’s hand on his jaw.

And Jisung suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Jisung tried for fierce but fell somewhere around pouty as he stepped back to look Minho in the eyes. “Look, I don’t know what I did…but I’m sorry for whatever it was.”

He held his breath, fumbling with the band-aid in his hand. Minho let out a long, shaky exhale, and Jisung watched as Minho’s eyes slipped shut. Pain lined the older boy’s sharp features.

“Never…never apologize to me,” Minho said very quietly, his voice trembling. “You…how can you think you owe me anything?”

Jisung bit his lip at the strain in Minho’s voice. “Minho-hyung, I…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Minho met Jisung’s gaze after a moment, his dark eyes like open wounds. Jisung stared back at him, the breath leaving his lungs as Minho reached up a shaking hand to trace his index finger along the curve of Jisung’s jaw.

His touch was feather-light, as if Jisung was made of glass. As if Minho was afraid of breaking him.

“I did this,” Minho said haltingly, eyes on the cut on Jisung’s face that was now clean and bandaged neatly. “I…I hurt you, Jisung-ah. In the truck, I was so close to—”

Minho cut himself off, fighting for composure as he looked away. “I could have killed you,” he whispered brokenly.

Jisung felt his cracked heart shatter just a bit more. He reached forward and placed his hand on Minho’s cheek, the skin warm under his fingers as he turned Minho’s head to lock their gazes once more.

“But you didn’t,” Jisung said softly. “I’m still here. I’m okay.”

He waved his other hand towards his cheek dismissively. “This is nothing, yeah? You have far worse injuries on your body than I do right now.”

Minho shook his head, eyes turning steely. “This was a mistake. I should never have dragged you into this—I put you in danger every single goddamn month. And…I will never forgive myself for doing that to you. But if I can still save you, then I will.”

He stood suddenly, forcing Jisung to step back as the younger boy looked up at him in shock. Minho looked down at him, eyes swirling with both grief and conviction. 

“You need to stay away from me, Jisung-ah,” Minho said achingly, as if the words were poison in his mouth. “Forget you ever knew about this part of me.”

Jisung shook his head as a disbelieving horror rose within him. “Minho-hyung, no—don’t do this, please. This isn’t the only way.”

Minho didn’t seem to hear him, instead raising a careful hand to cup the uninjured side of Jisung’s face. “Please, just—I need you to stay away from me, or it’ll be too hard. I won’t be able to…I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Jisung bit back a sob, feeling wildly off-balance as his world spun around him for the second time that night. Here it was at last—Minho finally pushing him away for good. The end of the race.

“Please don’t do this, hyung,” Jisung begged. “Minho... _please._ ”

Minho stepped away from him with difficulty, walking towards the door and pushing it open. He turned back to Jisung and their gazes locked once more. Minho’s eyes were full of shattered glass.

“Goodbye, Jisung-ah.”


	3. shattered glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp…it’s a fourshot now. oops? yall I rly don’t know how this happened jfc I need help lmao ANYWAYS peep the woochan I added to the tags! figured I would throw some crumbs out there, and I also just rly love writing chan as a panicked gay. this one is also sAD but what did yall expect from me? you expected me to keep my promise of fluff? that was ur mistake right there
> 
> hehe love yall fr (: feel free to send me hate on twt bc I deserve it [ @timeoftheblue](https://twitter.com/timeoftheblue)

Jisung stared at the blank audio track on the screen before him.

Shadows were climbing the walls of the studio around him, golden light seeping away into dusk as the minutes stumbled into each other and became hours. The blinking cursor seemed to mock him.

Jisung sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. Lately, he felt like there wasn’t any music left in him anymore. Like someone had torn open his skin and hollowed him out completely. Like he was…empty.

Jisung closed his eyes against the blue light of the computer, and his mind was immediately filled with the image of Minho as he told Jisung to leave. Face bruised, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes full of shattered glass.

Jisung opened his eyes, a few lyrics tiptoeing into his consciousness. Shattered glass—it was so like Minho. Jagged, but beautiful even in its brokenness. Sharp enough to cut if you got too close. Irreplaceable.

Jisung grabbed his open notebook lying on the desk, pen poised to write the words flitting through his mind—before he stopped himself. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep writing songs about Minho.

Not when he’d written so many already, all of them going unheard.

A few months into their friendship, Jisung remembered thinking he could write an entire symphony about Minho—the curve of his shoulders, the line of his jaw, the cosmos captured in his eyes.

That was when Jisung realized, for the first time, how dangerous Minho truly was.

And now…they hadn’t spoken since that night. Jisung hadn’t bothered texting or calling Minho this time—he knew they would go unanswered. He knew the click of Minho’s door shutting behind him had been the end of it, for real this time.

The end of the race.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe now Jisung could finally stop running after Minho, and just—stand still, for the first time in years. Let the world flow past him.

Jisung put down the notebook, turning his gaze back to the blank audio track. He wouldn’t write lyrics tonight—the words felt too raw. He let a snippet of an old recording play, some piano melody that he’d messed around with but never made into a song.

Jisung closed his eyes as a half-memory warmed his veins suddenly, one from the summertime. His family had stayed in a beach house for a couple weeks in August. One night, Jisung had snuck outside on impulse and found himself sitting on the sand, watching the black waves crash.

There was something soothing about the vastness of the ocean. Jisung liked how small it made him feel, like nothing mattered quite so much. He’d looked out at the stars dancing over the waves, the moon forming a milky path on the water.

Jisung sometimes dreamed about following that path into oblivion.

The memory was comforting, but haunting enough that Jisung felt the first bars of a song come to him. He started sketching out the bones of the melody, quickly losing himself in the bliss of creation. He didn’t think about shattered glass or the click of a closed door.

He just made music.

“Jisung, is everything okay?”

Jisung opened his mouth to reply to Chan, before freezing as he caught sight of two guys leaving the campus athletics building across the quad. From his spot at the tables outside the library, Jisung had a perfect view of the two figures.

Lean but strong build, tousled dark hair, fine-boned features—it was Minho.

Hyunjin was walking next to him, his slightly taller frame knocking into Minho’s every now and then as they laughed together. Both were carrying dance bags and wore baggy clothing—no doubt they were coming from a dance practice.

Jisung felt his chest tighten as he watched them walk across the quad towards the dorms. Minho looked…happy. Maybe not carefree, but Minho hadn’t looked that way in two years. The sunlight threaded his hair in gold as he shook his head and smiled at something Hyunjin said.

A lump rose in Jisung’s throat, and he swallowed it down painfully before turning back to Chan and Changbin.

The two older boys were sitting across from him, sporting identical looks of concern. Jisung would’ve laughed at how alike they were, if he could just remember how to breathe. 

He couldn’t help curling into himself slightly. “I’m fine, hyungs.”

Changbin looked at him with narrowed eyes, before lifting his gaze to the quad. Jisung could tell the exact moment he spotted Hyunjin and Minho by the hitch in his breath and the widening of his eyes.

Changbin looked back at Jisung, realization dawning on his features. “Are you and Minho okay?”

Jisung bit his lip, dread rushing through him. There was no way he could tell them what had really happened—not if he wanted to keep Minho’s secret. But it was so goddamn hard to lie to his two best friends.

“We don’t…really hang out as much anymore,” Jisung settled on, twisting his fingers together. “That’s all.”

Chan let out a long sigh, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward to catch Jisung’s gaze with his own.

“Jisung-ah…what’s going on, really?” Chan asked quietly. “You never sleep, you don’t get excited about anything, you’ve skipped music comp like four times…this isn’t you. Tell hyung what’s going on.”

Jisung bit his lip so hard the skin broke, barely feeling the pain as a dot of blood landed on his tongue. He didn’t know how to answer Chan, didn’t know how to tell them the truth without giving Minho away.

Didn’t know how to tell them that it felt like he was drowning on land, all the time.

Instead, he just drew in a shaky breath and mustered up a faint smile. “I’m okay, hyung—really. I’ve just been stressed about school and shit. Minho and I…we’ve both been busy, that’s all. He has a big dance evaluation coming up.”

It wasn’t technically a lie—Minho always had big dance evaluations coming up, being a dance major. It didn’t matter much, anyways. Chan and Changbin were friends with Minho, but only through Jisung—there was little chance of them spending time with Minho outside of them hanging out all together.

They knew how much he meant to Jisung, though. Jisung had always been horrible at hiding his own emotions, especially from his best friends.

“Alright, Sung,” Chan said with a sigh of defeat. “I’ll believe you if you say that’s all it is. But I just want you to know that me and Binnie are here for you, okay?”

Jisung felt a genuine smile break onto his lips as he looked at his hyungs. These two boys—they were the two things in his life he was always sure of. And even if they were annoying as hell sometimes, he knew they cared about him.

They were maybe the only people left in his life who did care.

“I know, Channie-hyung. Thank you,” Jisung said, before smirking. “Now, can we please talk about how hot you think the music comp TA is?”

Changbin snickered as Chan groaned loudly. “You can’t just say that! Woojin-ssi is a professional TA.”

Changbin lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t think we didn’t catch you staring at him the whole class, Chan-hyung.”

“Because he was _teaching,_ for god’s sake!” Chan protested.

Jisung’s smirk widened. “Oh, that’s funny…I didn’t think the lecture notes were located on Woojin-ssi’s ass.”

Chan immediately flushed a dark red and buried his face in his hands with a pained groan. “God, I hate you two.”

“Binnie thinks hyungie loves us,” Changbin said in a sickly-sweet voice, pouting exaggeratedly as he laid his head on Chan’s arm.

Chan just let out another long-suffering groan.

“Wait a second, is that…Kim Woojin-ssi, right over there across the quad?” Jisung asked, squinting at a figure that was most definitely Woojin.

Chan lifted his head, terror filling his eyes. “Jisung, if you call out to him, I swear to God—”

“Woojin-ssi!” Jisung yelled, sitting up in his seat and waving. “Hyung-nim, over here!”

Chan dived across the table to tackle Jisung. “Fucking—shut up!”

Changbin just laughed, the little traitor.

The truth was—Jisung was incredibly lucky. He knew this.

Chan and Changbin kept checking up on him throughout the next couple weeks—barging into the studio with iced americanos and Jisung’s favorite ramen, texting him “how r u?” and “what’s up fucker” (Chan was the first, Changbin the second) throughout the week. Their usual ways of caring about him.

Jisung was lucky to have them, and desperately grateful that he did. They tried their best…and it did help, a bit.

But then he would find an old hoodie of Minho’s that he’d stolen during one of their full moons together, and the scent of cinnamon, earth, and something wild would take him right back to cosmic eyes and the woods at night.

Or he would look through his lyric notebooks while working, and find line after line about a boy who holds the wind in his bones, a boy who moves like a song, a boy who is always just out of reach—and he wouldn’t be able to write another line for the entire day.

And he spent night after night watching the moon wax and wane as another month passed.

Jisung didn’t know how Minho would make it through the full moon.

Alone. 

The night of the next full moon, Jisung got dressed. Put on his shoes, wrapped himself in Chan’s coat, and held his phone in one hand as he stared out the window at the moon—high in the sky and perfectly round. He waited for the phone to ring, for Minho’s number to flash across the screen.

The phone never rung. 

Jisung stayed like that until the sun came up, sitting on the floor and staring at the sky. Waiting.

With the first rays of the sunrise, he got up at last. Let himself fall into the bed. And Jisung cried for the first time in a month, tears slipping down his nose and onto the pillow as sobs racked his body.

He wasn’t sure who he was crying for—the boy who was somewhere alone with wounds all over his body, or the boy who spent all night waiting for him.

Maybe both.

Jisung tilted his head, switching a couple chords around on the minute-long song he had due for his next class. The studio door opened and shut, but he didn’t bother to look up, knowing it was Chan or Changbin.

“Sup, hyung,” he called out, eyes still on the audio track.

“Have you seen Minho-hyung lately?”

Jisung looked up from his laptop immediately, seeing Changbin standing before him. The older boy’s dark eyes were wide with worry as he walked further into the studio to sit next to Jisung.

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked carefully, saving his work and shutting the laptop. 

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting to Jisung and then away. “Well…Hyunjin-ah texted me earlier. He said…he said he’s worried about Minho.”

Jisung clenched his fingers around the edges of his laptop, trying very hard to stay still. “Why?”

Changbin sighed, finally meeting Jisung’s gaze. “Hyunjin thinks Minho got into a fight—like, a physical fight. Apparently, Minho showed up to dance a couple days ago with bruises all over him. He says it’s from falling while dancing, but Hyunjin doesn’t believe him.”

Jisung slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. So Minho’s secret was still safe—they thought he’d been in a fight. Granted, people didn’t usually jump straight to “turns into a wolf once a month” for their reasoning, but still.

He felt a pang of worry in his chest. It did mean that Minho wasn’t properly healing his wounds if people were noticing now when they hadn’t before. An image of Minho alone in the woods and covered in his own blood flashed through Jisung’s mind. He felt his stomach twist painfully.

“Jisung-ah? What do you think?”

Jisung started at the sound of Changbin’s voice and turned back to his hyung. “I don’t know…I haven’t really been talking to him. But it doesn’t seem like Minho-hyung to get in a fight, you know? Maybe it really was because of dance.”

Changbin exhaled, shaking his head. “Listen, Jisung…this is about more than the bruises. I don’t know why you two stopped hanging out, but you’re obviously both in a bad state. What could be more important than being there for each other?”

_What could be more important?_

_Stay away from me, Jisung-ah._

Jisung felt the sudden burn of tears at his eyes, and he blinked them away hurriedly. Suddenly, everything just felt like—too much. He wished he was next to the sea, or better yet…in Minho’s arms.

_I need you to stay away from me._

“I don’t…” he trailed off, and his eyes started to burn again. “Hyung—”

And before Jisung knew what was happening, there were arms wrapping around him and he was clutching onto Changbin’s hoodie desperately as he swallowed back his sobs in a vain attempt to keep from crying out loud.

Changbin didn’t make comforting sounds like Chan would have, but he did rub Jisung’s back—and he made no mention of the tears he surely felt slipping into his hoodie from where Jisung’s head was cushioned on his shoulder.

He didn’t make Jisung explain any more after that, either, something Jisung was hopelessly grateful for.

The two boys sat like that for a long time, as the sun set in the sky outside.

The moon waned, and the night sky grew darker.

Jisung scraped song after song from his blood. Spent nights staring at the moon.

Laughed at Chan trying and failing to flirt with Woojin, lost to Changbin in push-up competitions that he had no chance of winning, ate too little produce and drank too much coffee.

Tried to remember how to breathe, day by day.

The moon waxed, and the night sky grew brighter.

The next full moon drew closer.

It came before he was ready. The full moon always did.

Jisung had been counting down the days until the moon formed a perfect silver quarter in the sky, but he still felt a pang of shock when it rose outside his window at last. Just like last time, Jisung was dressed with his phone in hand---ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Just like last time, Minho didn’t call.

Jisung bit at his lip and fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie all night as his insides waged war—one half of him screaming for Jisung to go after Minho, the other half whispering that Jisung had been hurt one too many times by Minho, and he needed to make this the last.

It took the clock striking 3:30 a.m. before Jisung finally had enough.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed Chan’s number and held the phone to his ear. Jisung kicked himself for calling his eternally sleep-deprived hyung this late at night, but there was no other way.

“Mmpf—hello?” Chan’s voice was gravelly with sleep.

Jisung couldn’t hold back his gasp of relief. “I’m so sorry, hyung…but can I ask a favor?”

Twenty minutes later, Jisung was behind the wheel of Chan’s rusty Hyundai, headed straight for the woods.

Chan had looked less than amused when he opened his door to find Jisung smiling nervously in the doorway. Still, he’d pressed his keys into Jisung’s hand anyways—but not before giving the younger boy a very sleepy, grumpy warning to come straight back and to not kill himself.

Chan had even pretended to believe Jisung’s obvious lie of needing to go for a late-night drive to “calm himself.”

Jisung had the best fucking friends in the world.

He bit back a smile, speeding up a bit as the city lights began to dim behind him. Just a little while longer—and he would be with Minho. The moon bathed the road ahead in light, and an unexpected sense of peace washed over Jisung.

Maybe the race wasn’t quite over.

Jisung arrived at their usual spot next to the woods just past 4:30, twin waves of relief and anxiety surging through him at the sight of Minho’s pickup. Was the older boy not back yet?

Jisung jammed the Hyundai to a halt and hopped out of the car, weaving through the tall grass to make his way to the pickup. He looked in the passenger window—and his heart stopped.

Minho was in there.

But he wasn’t upright, wasn’t moving, wasn’t yelling at Jisung to mind his own business. Instead, he was draped over the driver’s seat, dark crimson patches dotting the gray sweatpants he had on. Bruises and cuts adorned his bare chest, which rose and fell faintly with his shallow breaths.

_Oh god—_

The world froze around Jisung, time careening to a halt as blood rushed in his ears. He could see nothing but Minho’s limp body, weaker than Jisung had ever seen him.

Minho had always seemed larger than life to Jisung. Untouchable in his beauty, in his talent, in his secrets.

_Cosmic. Something not of this world._

But now, Minho looked like nothing more than a broken twenty-two-year-old boy. He looked horribly, desperately, achingly—human.

_Human._

It was terrifying.


	4. drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew and I'm back with a hella late update bc school is taking over my life! deadass wrote this instead of studying for finals, as per usual. this one FINALLY has the fluff I promised yall...and it could be the end? like i could easily end it here, but imma keep it open bc I had an idea for another plot point, so lmk if yall want me to keep going with this (:
> 
> also no one cares but the song “trying” by cavetown fits this fic perfectly! it made me cry lmao

Jisung nearly choked on his own panic, all the breath leaving his lungs as he bolted to the other side of the truck. Now right next to Minho, Jisung stood frozen for a moment—utterly overwhelmed. How would Minho have driven home in this state? How would he have healed himself?

Minho’s head shifted slightly, and his eyes cracked open to see Jisung standing there.

“What…” Minho whispered, then seemed to muster up his energy before trying again. “What are you doing here?”

Jisung shook his head, tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill over. “Don’t worry about it, just—I’m going to get you back home.”

Minho tipped his head back, a slow breath leaving him. He didn’t protest, and Jisung took that as his cue to carefully slide Minho’s body towards the passenger seat. He struggled a bit with the older boy’s larger frame, but managed to do it without jostling Minho too much.

Jisung’s hands came away stained with blood.

He swallowed hard, but focused on getting into the driver’s seat and shrugging off his hoodie. He draped the fabric over Minho’s bare torso. The older boy gave him the barest hint of a smile, but it was enough to warm Jisung’s chest just a little.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove onto the road, only wincing slightly at the sight of Chan’s Hyundai still sitting next to the woods. Jisung would get it back in the morning…somehow.

Minho barely stirred beside him as they began the drive back to the dorms. Jisung had started his usual chatter out of habit, but caught himself after a few minutes and fell silent—not wanting to bother Minho.

The older boy looked over at Jisung after a few minutes of silence.

“Why’d you stop?” came a barely-there whisper.

Jisung’s jaw dropped a bit as he looked over at Minho in surprise. “Oh! Um—sorry. I wanted to let you rest.”

Minho tipped his head back, eyes slipping closed. “I like listening to you talk.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped further. He quickly bit back the smile that was threatening to break across his lips as warmth filled his chest once more.

“Well—what I was saying before, about Chan’s crush on Woojin…”

And so he talked.

Minho was practically asleep by the time they reached the dorms. Not wanting to disturb him, Jisung did his best to help Minho out of the car and support the older boy’s weight with his own body. He was positive they looked ridiculous, as Jisung was a good bit smaller than Minho, but that didn’t matter much.

They finally made it to Minho’s dorm after sneaking past the front desk with a fair bit of luck. Jisung carefully arranged Minho’s frame on his bed, and began to unpack the first aid kit as usual.

Jisung was in the middle of unrolling some gauze when a hand landed on his head, startling him. He looked up to see Minho had reached out an arm to lightly rest his hand on Jisung’s hair. His eyes were soft, a lazy smile stretching over his lips.

The hand slowly traveled down the side of Jisung’s head, fingers running lightly through his hair, and stopped to cup his cheek gently. Jisung sat frozen, his skin burning under Minho’s touch.

Wildfires lit up his nerves in every place their skin met.

“It’s been two full moons since I saw you,” Minho whispered. His eyes were still disarmingly soft, glittering in the dim light of the dorm room.

Jisung let out a shaky breath. “I know.”

The smile slipped from Minho’s lips, and he let his hand fall back to rest on the bed. “I’m sorry, Jisung-ah.”

Jisung shook his head, busying himself with the medical supplies so he didn’t have to see the look in Minho’s eyes. As the older boy apologized, covered in his own blood.

As he tore down the walls Jisung had managed to build over the last two months.

“I’ll fix you up, hyung,” Jisung said firmly, ignoring the apology. “Don’t worry.”

Minho exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving Jisung as the younger boy moved forward with antiseptic and band-aids in hand. The next few moments were filled with soft quiet as the old routine came back to them, Jisung in between Minho’s legs as the moon fell from the sky outside.

Jisung focused on keeping his fingers from trembling as he cleaned and bandaged Minho’s wounds, the closeness of the older boy almost too much after weeks of distance. His throat felt dry as his hands moved over Minho’s golden skin.

“I’m sorry.”

Jisung let his eyes slip closed at Minho’s murmur, fingers stilling as he fought to maintain his composure.

“I need to apologize, Jisung,” Minho continued, voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. It was shitty of me and I did it in the worst way possible, and—”

“Please stop,” Jisung broke in, his voice barely audible. He kept his eyes closed, unable to look at Minho’s face. “It hurts so much more when you do this…when you pretend like you care.”

Minho drew in a sharp breath, and Jisung looked up to see Minho staring at him, gaze almost burning with intensity.

“That’s not true,” Minho said fiercely. “The problem…” he exhaled, looking away and shaking his head wryly. “The problem is that I care too much.”

Jisung’s breath caught. A desperate, beaten hope began to flutter its wings within his ribs, and he tried in vain to stamp it out.

“What do you mean?” he breathed.

He stared down at Minho, frozen in between the older boy’s legs. Jisung faintly registered that Minho’s hands were resting on his knees, centimeters away from Jisung’s thighs.

Minho’s eyes looked almost unearthly in the moonlight. His gaze pinned Jisung in place as he said, “I care so much about you that it hurts, Jisung-ah. So much that it’s nearly killed both of us.”

Jisung felt the world blur around him as he tried to process Minho’s words.

Minho had never told Jisung he cared about him before. Minho wasn’t a “words” kind of person—he shoved hoodies at Jisung if he was shivering, he carried Jisung to bed when the younger fell asleep at his desk—but he didn’t _say_ anything.

Minho kept talking, words growing stronger. “I tried to stop it, tried to push you away…but it never worked. I just can’t keep myself away from you. Even if it means we both get hurt.”

He bit his lip, one hand coming up to carefully take Jisung’s—the touch light but reassuring as he stared up at Jisung. “So I’m sorry for caring about you. I’m sorry I let you help me when you found me outside the dorm a year ago. I’m sorry for being completely incapable of being without you.”

Jisung couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. He felt his eyes slip closed, images of that night a year ago flitting through his mind.

Jisung had been walking back from the studio late one night under the light of the full moon. He’d found Minho slumped against the wall of the dorm building, half-hidden in shadow and covered in his own blood. He’d nearly screamed, shoving his knuckles in his mouth at the last second as he rushed to Minho’s side.

Jisung hadn’t asked questions, had just helped Minho himself when the older refused to go to the hospital. And that night, sitting on Minho’s bed, Jisung had felt his world shatter as Minho told him something no one else knew.

_the weight of a secret—_

Jisung opened his eyes.

Minho was still staring at him, with the same eyes Jisung had fallen in love with two years ago. But they didn’t belong to the same person.

Where was the boy he’d fallen in love with? Where was the boy who had fallen in love?

What had they done to each other?

“Minho-hyung…” he started, traitorous tears tickling at the corners of his eyes. “I care about you too.”

Minho eyes softened, and he reached his other hand to cup Jisung’s cheek. “I know you do, Jisungie… please don’t cry. Hyung can’t stand it when you cry.”

Jisung shook his head, tearing his hand from Minho’s to furiously rub at his welling eyes. “No, let me finish. I care about you too, and that’s why it hurts so much when you apologize for letting me in. Don’t you see how painful it is, to watch you regret me?”

Pain bloomed in Minho’s eyes, and he cursed before shaking his head furiously. “No, you don’t understand—I could never regret you. I just hate myself for what I do to you.”

“Then stop it!” Jisung burst out, hating himself for the tears slipping down his cheeks. “Then stop pushing me away, stop acting like you care and then acting like you don’t. Stop apologizing for everything you ‘do’ to me, as if I haven’t wanted to be there for you since the moment we met.”

Minho sat frozen, eyes wide with shock.

Jisung drew in a shaky breath and continued. “I’m my own person, Minho-hyung. I can make my own decisions, and I chose you a long time ago.”

Minho’s breath caught. “Jisungie—”

Jisung shook his head, stepping away from Minho and turning towards the door. “Whatever, hyung. I’ll just go.”

Minho was silent behind him, and Jisung swallowed hard as he began to walk towards the door. Would this be the end of it, then? At last?

_how long can you carry the weight of a secret?_

Jisung was almost to the door when arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind, strong and sure. Jisung let himself be tugged back against a warm chest, let the scent of Minho surround him—cinnamon and earth and a hint of something unmistakably _wild._

_something like home—_

“Don’t go, Jisung-ah,” Minho breathed, head dipping down to speak into Jisung’s ear as his arms tightened around the smaller’s frame. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have pushed you away. Please stay with me. I…I need you.”

Jisung felt his breath hitch as Minho’s breath fanned over his ear, and he bit his lip. Something was rising within him, something born of dark nights in the woods and starlight eyes. Something that had been growing for two long years.

He drew in a breath, steeling himself, and then turned around in Minho’s arms. He stared up at Minho, letting his hands raise to rest on the older’s chest as their gazes locked.

“Then prove it,” Jisung whispered.

Minho’s eyes widened.

Jisung felt as though the world was spinning around him in a dizzying blur, as if nothing could stop him. “Prove that you want me,” he breathed.

Minho’s eyes darkened at Jisung’s words, the same depthless onyx black that Jisung only saw when Minho _turned_. He tugged Jisung a little closer to him, hands warm around the smaller’s waist.

The world spun faster. Stars streamed past them.

_Cinnamon and earth and a hint of the wild—_

Minho dipped his head and captured Jisung’s lips with his own.

Jisung melted into the kiss immediately, hands sliding up Minho’s chest to rest at the nape of the older’s neck and tangle into his hair. Their mouths moved together gently at first, then with a hint of desperation as Minho pressed Jisung closer.

The world slipped away, and all Jisung could focus on was Minho’s lips against his own. Minho tasted like cinnamon and coming home. Utterly addictive.

Jisung was drowning in the taste, drunk on elation.

Minho’s hands left Jisung’s waist to cradle the younger’s head, tilting it slightly and pressing their lips together at a delicious new angle.

Jisung couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him, and Minho hummed into the kiss in response. He pulled away slightly, Jisung feeling himself following the other’s lips on instinct until he caught himself and let out a little gasp of embarrassment.

Minho cooed, eyes hopelessly soft as they took in Jisung’s mussed hair and kiss-bruised lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for two years, you know,” he said lowly.

Jisung could do nothing but gape at him. _Two years?_

“God…you’re adorable, baby,” Minho murmured.

Jisung felt heat spread up his neck, a deep-crimson blush surely washing over his cheeks. “You’re cheesy, hyung,” he said teasingly, but it came out too breathless to be convincing.

Minho chuckled. “Just for you.”

Jisung worried at his lip, Minho’s words both elating him and worrying him. “Hyung…you meant what you said, right? That you won’t push me away anymore?”

Minho wound his arms even tighter around Jisung, smiling down at the younger. “You’re stuck with me, Jisungie.”

Jisung felt a grin overtake his face, and he watched the stars spin past in Minho’s eyes. “Stuck with you,” he repeated softly.

Later that night, Jisung lay awake in Minho’s arms, feeling as though the world was under a spell. A spell where dreams came true, where boys laughed like sunlight and loved like starlight.

He turned slightly to see Minho curled around him, the older’s face ethereal even in sleep. His arms were draped over Jisung protectively, as if he were afraid they would be torn away from each other in sleep.

_something like home—_

Jisung had been chasing the cosmos for two years. Two years of praying to the night sky and bloodstained hands and never getting close enough. But tonight, Jisung had held the cosmos in his hands. And it was enough that he knew he would spend the rest of his life chasing it.

Jisung was drowning in the cosmos that was Minho. 

But it didn’t feel like drowning, really.

It felt like…flying.


	5. sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we all collectively laugh at the way this fic is titled “minsung one shot” on my computer? also I watched a video of wolves fighting just to write this and it made me cry sksdjk pls appreciate my effort. anyways if you were hoping I would end the story all fluffy and sweet in the last chapter, you can pretend this is a dream or some shit lmao but this SHOULD BE THE END! I HOPE!

There was something undeniably beautiful about waking up next to Minho.

Minho managed to look pretty all the time, much to Jisung’s annoyance, but especially in the sunlit, sleepy moments just after waking up. Jisung could write song after song about mornings spent with Minho.

It had been a couple weeks since the last full moon (since the _kiss,_ Jisung’s brain supplied helpfully), and Jisung had slept over at Minho’s more than a few times since. But lying next to the older boy now, watching the sun paint his features in gold, Jisung thought he would never get used to this.

_Tell me this love will last, tell me we’ll never get used to it—_ lyrics danced at his fingertips, but Jisung couldn’t quite force himself to get up in order to write them down. He also had a class in forty minutes, but…the lure of a sleeping Minho was too strong.

That, and the older boy had a strong arm locked around Jisung’s waist—making it sort of impossible to move anyways.

Jisung felt a fond smile spread over his face, when Minho’s eyes suddenly snapped open and landed on Jisung. He quickly tried to look nonchalant, knowing it was in vain as Minho squinted up at him adorably.

Minho wrinkled his nose. “Why are you awake? Come back to sleep with hyung.”

Jisung suppressed a shiver at the rough deepness of Minho’s morning voice. He grinned and let himself snuggle closer to Minho without protest. The older boy sighed in satisfaction, tugging Jisung closer to him before closing his eyes.

Jisung breathed in cinnamon and warmth, letting his eyes fall shut. Maybe they could sleep just a little longer.

Things were different, after that full moon.

Jisung saw the relief on Chan and Changbin’s faces when he started going to class again and casually mentioned he was hanging out with Minho. They also started going to their favorite Korean barbecue restaurant again—sometimes with Minho, sometimes with Minho and Hyunjin, and sometimes just the three of them.

Each time they got a little closer to getting banned from the restaurant on grounds of being “too rowdy,” which Chan blamed entirely on Changbin and Jisung.

Jisung waited for Minho when his dance practices went late into the night, and made friends with Seungmin and Jeongin—who were always waiting for their friend Felix, another dancer and a friend of Hyunjin and Minho already.

So just like that, their little family grew.

And when Jisung caught Minho looking at him with a warm certainty in his eyes, he knew this for sure: things were different—but so much better.

But one thing hadn’t changed. There would always be another full moon, and Minho would always turn.

And Jisung would always wait for him with an aching heart.

On this night, Jisung was even more on edge than usual. Minho had been acting odd right before he left, sitting in the truck for a good minute to scan the surroundings instead of jumping out like he normally did.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked, watching Minho’s features tighten.

Minho turned to him after a moment with a forced smile. “Nothing, Sungie. Just something strange in the air.”

And with that, he was slipping out of his clothes and readying himself to bound into the woods—before Jisung stopped him with a tentative hand to Minho’s arm.

“Be safe, hyung?” he asked, hating himself a little for his neediness but desperate enough to ignore his pride.

A fond smile tugged at Minho’s lips. “Always, Jisungie,” he replied, before leaning forwards to press a gentle kiss to Jisung’s forehead.

Jisung’s breath hitched at the touch, and he opened his mouth to respond—but Minho was already slipping out of the truck and running towards the forest.

So Jisung just sat back against the seat, cheeks burning.

After a couple hours, he started feeling what Minho had talked about earlier—that something in the air was off. A presence, almost. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Jisung curled more into himself on the driver’s seat, scanning the treeline but seeing nothing. He wrapped the old, pea-green coat around him tightly and let out a shaky breath.

That was when the howls began.

There were usually a couple howls throughout the night, each one sending chills down Jisung’s spine. He never knew if they were from Minho or actual wolves, or even wolves at all instead of just some stray dogs. But they were creepy all the same, and they reminded him that Minho wasn’t safe in the woods.

It was just that—usually, Minho’s greatest danger was himself.

But on this night, there were more howls than Jisung had ever remembered hearing. More than just one or two wolves. More than just some stray dogs.

Jisung bit his lip.

_Minho will be okay he will be okay he will be—_

The howls continued, drawn-out calls that made Jisung shiver as he wondered who they were calling out to.

Around 4 a.m., there was movement at the treeline. Jisung squinted, sitting up a little to get a better view. There was definitely something moving there—but not moving like a human. More like…an animal.

There was a flash of a dark brown coat, a tail—Jisung’s breath caught. Could it be Minho, still in his wolf form? Was he about to turn? Was he hurt, and unable to turn?

Jisung had never seen Minho in his wolf form before. He had no way of knowing if that was really him.

_Oh god please let him be okay—_

The bushes rustled as whatever it was got closer to the edge of the forest, and Jisung worried at his lip. If it really was Minho—what if the other wolves had hurt him, and he couldn’t turn back? What if he needed help?

Jisung clenched his hands into fists, steeling himself even as fear climbed its way up his spine.

There was only one way to find out.

So Jisung found himself clambering out of the truck, limbs shaky from sitting so long in the cold. He clutched the coat around himself as he inched closer to the treeline, eyes peeled for any sign of danger.

Twenty feet away from the edge of the woods, Jisung stopped. He had seen the shape of a wolf in the trees, he was sure of it. He leaned forwards, biting his lip— _yes._ Dark brown fur rippled behind the sparse cover of shrubs at the very edge. A tail flashed from behind a tree.

Jisung drew in a quick breath, and walked closer. “Minho-hyung?” he called.

There was no answer, but the rustling continued. Jisung was now ten feet from the woods. He stopped, clenching and unclenching his fists. Any further than this was too far, he knew.

Minho always told him to never step foot in the woods on a full moon.

Well, he had actually told Jisung to never even get close to the woods, but this was a special case. If Minho was hurt, Jisung had to know.

Jisung opened his mouth to call again—when the bushes directly in front of him shook, and out stepped a wolf.

It was enormous. The thick, dark brown coat he’d seen through the trees was there, accompanied by four strong legs with massive paws, a long snout, and flashing yellow eyes.

Jisung took a step back instinctually as the wolf regarded him. A low growl sounded from the wolf’s throat, a sharp set of bared teeth glinting at him in the moonlight. A numb sort of terror started winding its way around Jisung’s neck, his heartbeat stuttering.

_When you encounter a hostile wolf in the wild, stay calm._

Minho would never hurt him, right?

Jisung reached out a shaking hand. “M-Minho?”

The wolf growled again, eyes snapping to meet Jisung’s directly. He snatched his hand back, panic crashing through him as his gaze locked with the wolf’s. Yellow eyes stared back at Jisung—and that was when he knew.

That wasn’t Minho.

Jisung took another step back.

This time, the wolf took a step forward. Towards Jisung.

_If the wolf continues to show aggression, be ready to fight if need be._

Jisung bent slowly and picked up a nearby stick, eyes never leaving the wolf’s. He thrust the stick in front of him as tremors of fear shook his body.

“Stay…stay back!” Jisung warned, waving the stick slightly towards the wolf.

The wolf growled louder, taking another step forward. Suddenly, howls sounded from within the forest, closer than they had ever been before. Jisung clenched the stick tighter as the wolf took another step forward.

Another howl rang out. The wolf narrowed its eyes, drawing back a bit.

“Please,” Jisung whispered.

And then the wolf leapt at him.

Jisung felt himself freeze as the wolf sprang forwards—and then all of a sudden, he was on the ground. There was a heavy weight on his body and claws digging into his sides and teeth snapping in his face—and all Jisung could do was blindly kick and writhe in a desperate attempt to get free.

Red-hot pain exploded in Jisung’s side as claws sliced through his skin, and he let out a cry. He swung the stick fiercely, hitting the wolf on top of him. But it made no difference—the teeth were snapping closer and closer to his throat. Yellow eyes narrowed with hatred swum in his vision.

The sound of screams rang in his ears, and Jisung distantly realized the screaming was coming from himself. He kicked weakly, strength draining from him as pain continued to dance along his sides.

Was this how he would die?

Attacked by a wolf in the middle of nowhere, left to bleed out in the woods?

Suddenly a louder growl broke out over the chaos, followed by a broken-off whine. The weight rolled off him, and Jisung managed to gulp in a breath of air as he sat upwards to see—another wolf.

The two wolves were circling each other, deafening growls sounding from their throats as they sized each other up. Jisung felt a whimper of fear escape him, and the new wolf glanced at him for a millisecond before leaping at the other wolf.

The two wolves twisted around each other, locked in combat as they let out growls and squeals of pain. They tore apart for a moment before leaping at each other once more, jaws open and teeth bared.

Jisung watched in shock, unable to move away. The new wolf had a lighter coat, the color reminding him of burnt caramel. It stood slightly taller than the other wolf, but Jisung could tell it was leaner. He drew in another gulp of air as the wolves tore into each other, his insides roiling.

Jisung had never been able to stand violence, but he couldn’t make himself look away.

He did manage to force his shaking body to scramble backwards—right when the new wolf managed to pin the other wolf on the ground, jaws snapping near its throat.

That was when the new wolf looked at Jisung for the first time. He froze as their gazes locked.

Depthless, dark eyes were staring back at him. Cosmic eyes.

It was Minho.

Jisung gaped in shock, but Minho—the wolf—was already turning away before he could do anything. Minho bit down on the scruff of the still-struggling wolf and dragged it back into the trees.

Jisung lost sight of the wolves after a second, the dark woods swallowing up their forms. He could still hear their faint growling, though, as howls rang out from deeper within the forest. Jisung knew he should probably go back to the safety of the truck, but all he could do was curl into himself on the ground.

His entire body trembled.

A long, unsettling howl sounded from right at the woods edge. It sounded like a warning. After a moment, Jisung looked up just in time to see… _Minho_ , emerging from the trees.

But it wasn’t Minho as a wolf. It was human Minho— _his_ Minho.

His body was covered in dirt and streaks of blood, and he moved unsteadily as he broke past the treeline and started towards Jisung. And his eyes—Jisung’s breath hitched when Minho looked up.

Minho’s eyes were black with fury.

But the moment his gaze landed on Jisung, everything about Minho softened. The black fury drained from his eyes, leaving the starry brown Jisung knew.

The starry brown Jisung had fallen in love with.

And with that, he found himself rising to his feet and stumbling to meet Minho.

The two boys crashed into each other halfway between the truck and the woods, arms reaching out to press their bodies together. And they held onto each other at the edge of the two worlds—as if they might be torn away at any moment.

Jisung felt Minho’s arms wind around his waist and press him close to Minho’s chest. He held on just as tightly, turning his face to nestle into the side of Minho’s neck as his body trembled. A sob rose in Jisung’s throat, pushing itself past his lips, and he pressed further into Minho’s neck to muffle the sound.

But after that, he couldn’t hold them back any longer. Sob after sob racked Jisung’s body as Minho held him even tighter.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Minho whispered, pressing kisses into Jisung’s hair. “God, I’m sorry…so sorry.”

Jisung swallowed back his sobs with difficulty, breathing in cinnamon and earth and _home._

Minho was still apologizing, holding Jisung as if he would never let go. But two howls rang out, and Jisung felt Minho tense at once.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t stay here,” Minho whispered. “We need to go.”

Jisung pulled away slightly to meet Minho’s gaze. The older boy looked down at him, eyes swirling with pain and guilt.

“You’ve done so well, Jisungie,” Minho said softly, tenderly. “Just stay strong a little longer, okay?”

Jisung found himself nodding. He could do that. _For Minho_.

They walked back to the truck, Minho letting go of Jisung to slip on his clothes. Jisung couldn’t even find it within himself to be embarrassed that he’d hugged a naked Minho.

He did see Minho wince as he got dressed, reminding Jisung that Minho was no doubt in a lot of pain—from the transformation, and the fight. Jisung pressed his hands against his sides where he could feel blood seeping out from the claw marks.

Minho caught the movement, and his eyes darkened again at the sight of blood staining Jisung’s sides.

Jisung drew in a shaky breath. He had to keep it together—Minho was in more pain than him, and he still needed to drive them home. He made to get into the driver’s seat, before Minho stopped him with a worried glance.

“Are you okay to drive?” Minho asked quietly. His serious eyes left room for nothing but honestly.

Jisung nodded firmly, faking confidence. “I’ll be fine, hyung. Let’s go.”

They had only been driving for a couple minutes when Jisung couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Hyung, what was that?” he asked at last, keeping his eyes on the road and gritting his teeth to ignore the pain in his side.

Minho sighed. “I’m not sure…the wolves are moving closer to the forest edge, and I don’t know why.”

Jisung looked over to see Minho was staring at his hands, stained with the blood of the other wolf.

“There didn’t used to be so many, and they used to stay deep in the forest,” Minho continued after a moment. “I was able to stay away from them most of the time…but they’ve gotten closer and closer.”

He turned to Jisung suddenly, eyes swimming with guilt. “But I _never_ thought they would get close enough to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Jisung-ah. I should’ve warned you.”

Jisung turned away from the road to give Minho a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, hyung. It wasn’t your fault, I should’ve stayed in the truck. I just…I thought it might’ve been you.”

Minho sighed again, before reaching out to rest one hand on Jisung’s thigh. The warm weight was comforting, and Jisung felt a fraction of his tension release.

Minho didn’t say anything else, even though Jisung knew he was dying to tell Jisung to not worry about him. Jisung bit back a small smile at that, before another question crept into his mind.

“Are any of them…like you?” Jisung asked carefully. He knew Minho understood what he meant.

The older boy looked away, before answering quietly, “No. I’ve never met anyone else like me.”

He turned back to Jisung with a wry smile. “I’m not sure if anyone else like me even exists.”

Jisung bit his lip at that, a sudden grief blooming in his chest. Minho would never know anyone who shared his experiences, would never have anyone to go to for advice.

“I doubt I could handle two of you anyways,” Jisung tried to joke weakly.

Minho smiled at that, the warmth in his eyes showing that he knew Jisung was trying to make him feel better.

“Let’s just get home,” he said.

This time, they patched each other up. Jisung nearly cried at the sight of the nasty bites in Minho’s side, but the older boy reassured him that he would heal quickly as long as they cleaned and wrapped the wound.

Minho knelt between Jisung’s legs as the younger sat on the bed for once, shirt off so Minho could inspect the cuts in his side from the wolf’s claws.

Minho hissed at the bloody marks, eyes flashing black. “That bastard,” he growled.

Jisung wrapped his arms around himself, self-conscious. “Just wrap them already, please.”

Minho nodded immediately, eyes softening as he reached for the antiseptic. “I’m sorry again, baby. I should’ve never let him get to you.”

Jisung didn’t respond, instead watching Minho get to work on his wounds. “Hyung, did you…did you kill that wolf?”

Minho glanced up at him quickly before looking back at his work. “I wanted to…so badly. But I didn’t.”

Jisung breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, I don’t think you would be allowed back in the forest if you killed another wolf.”

Minho scoffed, an adorable pout taking place on his lips as he wrapped Jisung’s side. “Allowed? Those wolves are lucky I let _them_ in the forest.”

Jisung suppressed a giggle. Minho rarely acted wolf-like, but this strange territoriality was one trait he’d noticed. Minho didn’t let people he wasn’t close with into his room, and he was only relaxed when he and Jisung were alone in his room. It was honestly sort of cute.

Minho sat back with a satisfied nod. “You should be okay now, Jisungie. It’ll take longer for you to heal, but the cuts are all pretty shallow.”

Jisung shrugged his shirt back on, smiling at Minho. “Thanks, hyung! Can we cuddle now?”

Minho chuckled and nodded, but stopped Jisung from getting up with a gentle touch to his arm. “Okay, but hold on a second. We should talk about what happened.”

Jisung tilted his head. “We did talk about it, though?”

Minho shook his head, still kneeling in front of Jisung. “No, like—what we’re going to do. Now that you’ve been attacked…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jisung-ah, I don’t know if I can let you come with me again. Not if there’s a chance the other wolves could get to you again. And…I don’t know if I could get to you in time.”

Jisung didn’t move, just watching Minho as the older boy reached up a hand to gently cup Jisung’s jaw.

“You know it kills me already, seeing you hurt,” Minho whispered. “I can’t stand it.”

Jisung reached up his own hand to cover Minho’s, tugging it away from his face and intertwining their fingers. “And it kills me to watch you go into that forest every month, but I do it,” Jisung responded. “You promised not to push me away. You promised to let me help you.”

Minho nodded, eyes wide. “No, I swear—the last thing I want to do is push you away. But how can I stop you from getting hurt again?”

Jisung bit his lip. “Fine. Teach me how to fight a wolf.”

Minho leaned back, laughing a little in surprise. “Sungie, what?”

“I’m serious,” Jisung insisted. “You fought that wolf pretty well, so I know you at least know how. Teach me how to do that, too, just…as a human. I’ll bring a baseball bat, too!”

Minho shook his head, a warm fondness washing over his face. “Fine, you brat. I’ll teach you…and the bat should at least do some damage.”

Jisung grinned victoriously, before blushing as Minho leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“There’s just no stopping you, huh?” Minho asked quietly, leaning back to look at Jisung with the wonder of the cosmos in his eyes.

Jisung met Minho’s gaze head-on. “Not when it comes to you.”

He leaned forwards, lightly pressing their foreheads together. “Because you’re stuck with me, remember?”

Minho pulled away just barely, just enough for their eyes to meet. “Stuck with you,” he repeated fondly.

With that, Minho leaned forwards and let their lips meet. And just like that, Jisung was flying again.

The rising sun washed their forms in golden light, and Jisung wondered if the Jisung and Minho of two years ago could have ever imagined this.

And he thought that maybe the Jisung and the Minho of two years ago were dead, but the Jisung and Minho of now just might be okay.

No, they _would_ be okay. He knew it as sure as he knew the moon would rise above.

In their world and every other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anddd that's it, y'all! unless I get another evil idea...no promises. this was so fun to write, so I hope y'all enjoyed it!


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